the Carnivore Conspiracy
by Sjokolade
Summary: Hibari wants information, Mukuro wants his freedom back, Byakuran wants more rings, Hibari wants Byakuran out of Namimori, Mukuro wants Hibari who wants Mukuro and Tsuna just wants to protect them all… 6918
1. Part I

**Rating**: M (rated for violence, language and romance)  
**Pairing**: 6918 (and, I guess, a hint of tension towards 10069)  
**Disclaimers**: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn (and I think we should all take a moment and be thankful for that)

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**Part I**

~ a reasonable doubt concerning Aces ~

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When Mukuro realized he was trapped, truly, irrevocably trapped, his first thought was that he wanted to laugh.

Above him stood Byakuran, smiling his bright, sugar-candy smile and knew he had won. "I told you, Mukuro-kun," he spread his arms wide in a mock gesture of welcome. "This place is sealed off entirely."  
Mukuro was already at his limit. His entire body felt like a raw, exposed nerve, he wouldn't be able to last much longer now…  
His mind was searching madly for an opening, his thoughts prodding and jabbing like frantic fingers at the oppressing, invisible walls. There ought to be an opening. Why wasn't it there? Had the brat failed him? _Where __**is**__ it_ – here, somewhere – where_where__**where?!**_

But there was nothing there. Byakuran's shields, however he had constructed them, were flawless. There was no gap.

_This is it_, Mukuro thought suddenly, and the realization hit him like a bullet. _It's over…!  
_"Since you don't have the Vongola ring," Byakuran went on, his voice languid now and slow, because he had all the time in the world, "I have no real interest in you."  
_This is how I die_!  
"It is time for you to die. For real, this time…"  
Byakuran was smiling (always smiling) down at him, cheerfully, like a kid, speaking in a near sing-song voice. "Mu-ku-ro-chan!"

_He is insane_, thought Mukuro – vaguely so, because it hurt to think. _This man is crazier than I am…_

As he began to lose consciousness his last thoughts were of Hibari Kyouya – beautiful, beautiful Kyouya, cold as ice – and he pictured him standing on his grave with that expressionless face, the face that only Mukuro in the entire world could read (could sometimes read), muttering _'I told you so, you stupid, good-for-nothing herbivore'_.

And as he fell forward and into blissful darkness, the thought made him smile a little…

* * *

Hibari had called for Mukuro only once, and when they met, they were 23 and Kyouya had cut his hair again (he did this from time to time, when it started to get in his eyes, and he would hack it off in chunks with whatever sharp objects lay nearby) while Mukuro's had gotten even longer.

"Well, this is new. Long time no see, Mr. Head Prefect."  
"I want you to die, Rokudo Mukuro," said Hibari promptly without so much as batting an eyelid.

As far as Sawada Tsunayoshi and his other guardians and various other allies knew, it was their first meeting in nearly 3 years (after their little 'bar incident', the entire Vongola famiglia had worked very hard to keep them separated) – but they didn't know. They didn't know that Mukuro had in fact gone to see Hibari on several occasions.  
They didn't know about the books or the fighting, which they both pretended to take seriously, all the little things he had done to stir up the neat, unshakable normalness of the other boy's life, or the quiet hours they had sometimes spent just being together without saying anything. It could hardly be called a relationship, this thing they had, or even a friendship (not by any conventional standards at the least) – he was fairly certain that Hibari still longed to claw his throat to bloody shreds. But it was close enough.

"Oh ho, forward as ever I see." Mukuro's lips curved in a playful smirk, "is that a threat…or an invitation?" He remained quite unfazed. Throughout the years in which they had known each other Hibari Kyouya had frequently threatened, swore and even promised to ultimately kill him (with his teeth) and, as far as Mukuro was concerned, this was just Kyouya making conversation.

"Consider it a proposal," said Hibari coolly, studying him through dark, half-lidded eyes. Cold, empty, strangely seductive… Mukuro caught himself staring and, chuckling lightly to hide it, he leant back with the appearance of perfect comfort and drew his fingers languidly through his hair. "My, my, a proposal from you… I suppose I should feel honored?"

Hibari had called him out to one of his private domains – one of his _many_ private domains, actually. This particular one was located in Venice in Italy and on the outside it was an exclusive-looking restaurant that belonged to the Cavallone family. The entire upper floor was tastefully furnished and decorated with big oriental paper fans, miniature plants and quiet fountains of clean, clear water that looked like glass even when it was flowing. It belonged to the Foundation (_not_ to the Vongola, which was Hibari's current _Ace-up-the-sleeve_ of choice for whenever Dino Cavallone appeared to have any qualms about giving into his young student's every whim).

Mukuro personally thought Hibari's sense of style was impeccable. He wondered what it would take to make him attack him in here. He smiled like a snake and leant over the table with his chin propped up in one hand. "You know, you look lovelier every time I see you." He wanted to fight. "I should have brought flowers." It had been so long since they had last seen each other!

But Hibari's eyes were calm and serious. He pressed his palms together, contemplated Mukuro from across the table and didn't bait. "I have something for you…"

"For me? How intriguing…" Mukuro pretended to study his nails. "Is this scheme in any way connected to my, ah, imminent demise?" he added, in reference to the other's less than polite opening-line. A carnivorous smile was all he got in reply.

And then Hibari explained to him with no superfluous words and no unnecessary digressions, exactly how Mukuro was going to help Hibari and the Vongola screw up the Millefiore's plans. And when he was finished, Mukuro's perpetual smirk had a different feeling to it entirely.

"Your concern is touching," he began in a slow voice. He got up smoothly to his feet and began to pace the room with all the grace and alertness of a feline predator, much the same fashion in which Hibari observed him from his own chair. His mind was working furiously. Because this plan (or, _proposal_ as Hibari had phrased it) – as fun and ridiculously risky as it sounded – was so very much unlike the Kyouya he knew. It was a good plan, by all means, and it might really provide the Vongola family with the advantage they sorely needed to crush the Millefiore… but it was also quite unselfish and the Kyouya he knew could be described as nothing short of the very personification of egotism (Mukuro thought it was all part of Hibari's…_charm_, really, and found it quite fascinating).  
He wasn't about to let his confusion show, however.

"You truly are going to unprecedented extremes for the sake of the Vongola. You, who normally don't involve yourself at all…"  
"I'm not doing it for them," scoffed Hibari, sounding almost offended at the idea. He took a sip of his chilled green tea, his eyes closed, and put the glass down with a faint 'clink'.  
_Ah, so there is more to this after all then_, thought Mukuro with a smirk. "Then why?"  
"I owe you no explanations, low-life, but if you must know, that spineless _maggot_ seems to have taken an interest in my town." He spat the word 'maggot' as if it were a rotten thing on his tongue, clenching one delicate hand into a hard fist as he did. He meant Byakuran, obviously, the infamous head of what was rapidly becoming the largest and by far most powerful organization in the world; the one who had forced Sawada Tsunayoshi into demanding that they all destroy their hard-won Vongola rings.  
"I don't approve."

Mukuro stopped in front of the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the colorful and lively piazza beneath. "This plan of yours…" He turned his head slightly so that he could see the other over his shoulder. "You're asking a lot of me, Kyouya."  
"I am not asking."  
"_Kufufu_ – again with that bluntness of yours…"

He moved to stand behind Hibari's chair, leaning his elbows on the exquisite white leather. His hair fell down over his face. "But, you do realize, of course, that for this, _if_ I do this, you will be indebted to me. The thing you hate the most…"  
Hibari tilted his head up and leant it all the way back, studying him upside-down with a calm defiance. "No, I won't."  
Unable to resist the temptation, Mukuro reached out and touched the thick, fragrant hair with one finger. His finger wandered down to the tender curve of Hibari's ear. "I am going to want something in return for this…"  
"What do you want, herbivore, a plaque?" drawled Hibari and didn't flinch.  
The finger reached the perfectly sculpted jaw. "I could really die, you know," he said with mock-gravity in his smooth voice. "I just don't see what I have to gain from –"

Before he could finish his sentence Hibari had spun his chair around and, while maintaining the same indifferent expression, he kicked him in the shins, grabbed onto his ponytail with one hand and yanked him down with a force that made him stumble to his knees. It happened so fast Mukuro barely had time to shape his mouth into a surprised 'o'.

"Do you think I'm someone else, hellspawn? You seem to be under the delusion that I am _asking_ your opinion."  
Hibari twisted the silky hair in his grip, forcing Mukuro's head up and back into an awkward and quite painful angle. This, in Mukuro's experience, was Hibari's least violent way of demanding the undivided attention of a listener and Mukuro took it with a smirk and a coy glint in his red eye.

"I will make you no promises, Rokudo Mukuro. I owe you none. But I have information you don't. I can give you an opportunity that you will probably never have again." There was a pause, then, "it appears the Vongola is the not the only family out there that stash away their unwanted garbage in the Vendicare…"

Mukuro's smirk disappeared. "What do you mean?"

Hibari closed his eyes and, as if by some magical transition, Mukuro's infuriating smirk appeared instead on his lips. "If you're discovered you may attempt to kill him or do your brain-leeching as you please," he went on, completely ignoring Mukuro's question. "Every detail you can find out about that filthy parasite is of value." Hibari spoke in a careless fashion, but when he next looked up and their eyes met his gaze was intense. "_But_…" he got to his feet and almost angrily he jabbed a finger down hard against Mukuro's chest. "I don't want any of your antics, Rokudo Mukuro." His voice was low and dangerous. "This is a delicate operation and you need to show some temperance; no _games_ this time."

.

Hibari would be the first to admit, however reluctantly, that he and Mukuro were alarmingly alike each other.

But there was one thing that set them very much apart, which had nothing to do with Hibari's cool demeanor, Mukuro's extraordinary abilities or their choice of henchmen; rather it was how they preferred their kill.  
Hibari loved to fight, _lived_ to fight his clean, unforgiving Dead or Alive battles, to kill_bite__**destroy**_… but Mukuro was different; Mukuro loved Games.

Rokudo Mukuro lovedto plan elaborate schemes and he watched them unfold with great satisfaction and self-confidence, dropping his little playthings (for, in his two-colored eyes, that was what they all were – what _everyone_ were) hints along the way just to make it more interesting. His victims never saw it coming, and Mukuro played with them until the very end, all the way smiling his playful, ever present Cheshire-cat smile as he watched how they met with their ultimate and inevitable demise (the worst part of it was how every elegant victory only served to blow his ego further out of proportions – or so Hibari thought, anyway).

But he couldn't do that, not this time.

But he had, of course.

* * *

"The flowers were a nice touch," purred Byakuran. "They were lovely, Mukuro-kun."

Mukuro was not dead.

"I do love riddles, after all, just like you do. Or did you expect the symbolism would be lost on me? But, then again, of course…"  
A small part of him wished he was because he was barely conscious and it hurt a fucking million different worlds of scorching blinding pain! But he had asserted with some dim satisfaction that Byakuran had not gone through with his promise and that, for whatever reason, he had let the ring-less Vongola illusionist live for just a little while longer.  
"…I already knew who you were. I knew that from the moment you came in here."

Mukuro was not so stupid as to lure himself into some vain belief that this might possibly mean anything _good_ – no, he could only begin to imagine what was now in store for him… But at least there was, well, hope.

He might make his Grand Escape yet...

* * *

After he had made his offer to Rokudo Mukuro, Hibari was forced to remain in Italy for nearly a full week due to a small number of other business engagements of a rather urgent nature. His third meeting that week, however (fourth if you counted the one with Dino), took place in Namimori, only a scarce handful of hours after his plane had landed.  
For this particular meeting they were three; only three. It was a secret meeting.  
And it was held in the middle of the night…

Hibari did not enjoy laying his plans on the table for anyone – especially not Sawada Tsunayoshi, the Herbivore King himself, or his exceptionally pathetic new _pal_, Irie Shouichi.

"The Varia?!" Tsuna looked at him terrified. "But, but _they _have nothing to do with this part – what, how did you –?"  
Hibari glared at him coolly, seemingly completely unfazed by the outburst. "Xanxus and I have an understanding," he said simply and enjoyed the shudder that ran through the two young men seated before him.  
"Xanxus and Hibari…"  
Irie Shouichi adjusted his glasses and his voice was barely a whisper. "What a dangerous duo…"

In spite of the impractical hour of the meeting and the trouble the two others had to go through just to get there, Hibari had _insisted_ that they don the proper, traditional Japanese attire that he had all his guests wear. People usually found Hibari to be quite the persuasive host.

"A-Anyway!" Irie was always a little wary in Hibari's presence. He was clearly terrified of him. "What about that… _other _thing? Did, err, did you figure out a way of getting inside the main base –"  
"Yes." Hibari gave them a dark look. Then he closed his eyes in a resigned fashion. "I'm sending Rokudo Mukuro."  
Tsuna's wide eyes looked almost as terrified at the prospect of involving Mukuro as he had at the prospect of working with the Varia. "You're _what_?! But," he wrinkled his brow in puzzlement, "wouldn't that be impossible…?"

Hibari looked away. "He is the only one who has a slim chance of getting close to that filthy grass-eater."

And then he explained to them in brief, accurate terms exactly why it had to be – why it could _only_ be – Rokudo Mukuro who would be their spy. He did not elaborate much. He hated the thought of others _knowing_ things about his schemes, even if they were directly involved in them – it was a matter of principle, he felt. It did nothing to brighten his mood.

Afterwards Irie had one question. "It's true that Rokudo Mukuro's abilities are extraordinary," he said. "But so are Byakuran's. He'll no doubt know all about Mukuro and probably even expect him to come. And so will a fair portion of his sub-ordinates. The Millefiore are well aware of the Vongola's capabilities, it would be naïve to expect them not to take their precautions."  
"Perhaps they would," said Hibari and a small smile curved his lips for the first time that evening, "but Rokudo Mukuro is going to die. By the time those worthless herbivores realize there is a leak Rokudo Mukuro will have been officially dead for a long time."

.

When they were outside again in the fresh air under the starlit night sky, and Irie had bid them goodnight while casting nervous glances at Hibari's henchmen, Tsuna stalled.

"Byakuran will know," he said suddenly with that definite certainty that sometimes tinged his voice when he made observations he wasn't consciously aware of making_._ "That's your plan, isn't it? He is going to test Byakuran's combat skills… isn't he?"  
"Rokudo Mukuro is the only one who can."

Tsuna was wrinkling his brow, chewing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheeks. _He doesn't like it_, thought Hibari. But he had expected this, of course, and didn't care.

"Hibari… have you – are you absolutely sure about this?"  
Hibari didn't reply.  
"Byakuran is not someone to be toyed with or taken lightly, and if Mukuro fails then it will affect not only him but Chrome as well. If he's cut off from her, even if it's not for long, she could die. The girl we know now is strong, but she was not always that way."

"I made an offer. Rokudo Mukuro accepted it."

"Of course he did!" Tsuna's eyes were suddenly blazing with emotion, his hands forming hard fists at his sides. "He always does!"

Hibari turned his head. They stared at each other. Tsuna's chest heaved with something akin to anger, but his eyes were suddenly widening, as if he had only just realized to whom he was making accusations. "I mean," he began, "it's only… He could never say no to you, could he? He won't listen to me so much. I suspect not at all, if it were not for Chrome. But when you're there –"

"I fail to see how any of this is my problem, Sawada Tsunayoshi," interrupted Hibari. He did not raise his voice, but his eyes had a dangerous gleam in them. "Do not speak of things you know nothing of. I have little interest in the meaningless motives of herbivores," he went on, "but make no mistake, I _always_ repay my debts."

* * *

"I've met him, you know," said Byakuran suddenly, glancing down at Mukuro's supine form. He was seated in his couch again now, surrounded by bits and pieces of what remained of his expensive office interior. "…Hibari-chan."  
At the mention of that name, Mukuro's eyes met Byakuran's, briefly.  
He put a small, white cotton-candy roll into his mouth before adding with one eyebrow casually arched, "or isn't it because of him that you're here?"

.

The first and last time Byakuran had met Hibari Kyouya was when he found him waiting, perfectly unannounced and without warning, inside his office – his private, well-guarded office to which only he had access. He'd known at once who it was, of course, although he had never actually seen him.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise… I heard you were out travelling."  
The young man glared at him, coolly, quietly, saying nothing. He was very beautiful. Byakuran smiled, the way he always smiled, and enjoyed the way Hibari remained seated and unafraid even as he moved to stand in front of him.  
"You're not quite what I expected from someone with such a… fearsome reputation, Hibari-chan." He said, studying the lovely face and the ice-cold posture. His beauty was almost feral, like something wild and blood-thirsty was hiding, patiently waiting underneath that calm, inviting surface.  
"Are you here on behalf of the Vongola?"  
"Don't group me with those herbivores," drawled Hibari. "I am here to warn you."  
This made Byakuran laugh. He couldn't remember if anyone had ever talked to him like that before within the confinements of these walls.  
"Leave Namimori."  
"Yes, I heard you had an affinity for your hometown. Well, if you want to join me –"  
"Leave," Hibari broke him off, "and get your worthless minions out of my town."  
The perpetual sugary smile did not leave Byakuran's face even for a second. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Hibari-_chan_," he said slowly, and only the faintest trace of gravity tinted his voice. "Your darling town happens to be of importance to me."

As he was about to leave, Hibari Kyouya cast him a long look over his shoulder with eyes that were dark and suddenly solemn. "Just remember that you were given this chance to forfeit. You will not be given another."

Byakuran smiled but said nothing.

.

"He's precious to you, isn't he, Mukuro-kun," taunted Byakuran. "Perhaps I'll kill him while you watch. First the girl you used and then him."  
_Oh if you only knew…_ thought Mukuro.  
And then suddenly Byakuran was there in front of him and his long fingers, sticky with sugar, were on his chin, tangling in his hair, tilting his head up so that they came face to face, because Mukuro could not muster the strength to do it himself. Byakuran's eyes were narrow now, and there was a very, very dangerous gleam in them.  
"The young Vongola has such pretty bodyguards…" his thumb stroked almost tenderly over Mukuro's lips and came away red with blood. "How fortunate I am that he is sending them all to me!"

Mukuro did not speak – he didn't think his voice would bear. But his thoughts did and he had plenty of those. _I will kill you, just wait, you don't know how patient I can be. You don't know who you are dealing with! I will make you regret being born_! These thoughts were quite coherent to him even in his severely diminished state. _I will possess you, I will make you kill everyone you care about with your own bare hands, I will crush your __**brain**__…_

"And how sad," continued Byakuran, his smile widening, "that you will remember… _nothing_ of Hibari Kyouya." For a short instant, Mukuro's eyes focused. "Or anyone else, for that matter!"

* * *

When Hibari finally returned to his own private chambers he was suffering from a jet-lag of roughly 8 hours and he had not slept for nearly 12, something he was not remotely used to. Also, someone had turned all the lights off. He scarcely seemed to take any notice of it, however, for he was deep in thought over the young Vongola's final words, and he navigated through the darkened room with a thoughtless, practiced ease.  
He stopped when suddenly a soft, silky voice spoke from somewhere in the pitch black. "My, my, you seem distracted."

Hibari's eyes narrowed. "_You_…!"  
In the next instant, quick as a heartbeat, one of Hibari's tonfa flew across the room, spinning in the air like a throwing-star in the general direction of where his desk was, where Mukuro – who was not supposed to be in Japan at all – sat in the darkness looking smug. Mukuro caught it in one gloved hand with a lop-sided grin and slid down soundlessly to the floor.

"Welcome back."

He had no sooner uttered this (perfectly ordinary and above all polite) greeting than Hibari stood suddenly very close to him, his other tonfa pressing hard and threateningly against the underside of his chin. The smile never left Mukuro's face. _Oh Kyouya…_

"I don't recall inviting you here, brain-leech."  
"What? No kiss for me?"  
They stood like that for a moment, motionless, staring at each other, before Hibari seemed to change his mind about mutilating the other and opted instead to merely shove him away with an irritated sneer. "You should have stayed in Italy. Or do you want to get bitten to death?"

"_Kufufu…_" Mukuro hoisted himself backwards up onto the desk. "You know…" He rubbed his chin absentmindedly and turned on the lamp that was there. "If you acted half as a beautiful as you look, the world would be yours for the taking."

Hibari scoffed. "Only weak herbivores have such preposterous ambitions."  
"Only those with no ambitions at all are truly preposterous," retorted Mukuro elegantly.

He watched on in fascination as Hibari began to undo his black yukata and disappeared behind a thin paper screen with a printed Japanese motif of waves and birds. Mukuro could only just make out the shadow of movement from behind it. Kyouya was changing.  
He could vividly recall how, only a few years back, Hibari and he had needed only to be in the same room to promptly lose focus of everything except for each other and attack with teeth and claw, completely disregarding their surroundings – and he marveled silently at how much their relationship had evolved over the years. How wonderfully curious it was that they hadn't killed each other yet.

"Why did you come here, Rokudo Mukuro?" asked Hibari, yanking his train of thought to a sudden halt. "What is your purpose?"

Mukuro dangled his legs like a kid and paused as if pondering some difficult question over in his head before he answered. "I came to tell you that I accept. There will be conditions, naturally, but I will do it." He chuckled and added smoothly, "after all, why shouldn't I? It sounds quite promising, and I truly would hate for someone else to take over the world..."  
The shadow behind the paper screen stilled momentarily before it slowly started to move again. There was the sound of rustling silk and then Kyouya emerged on the other side, dressed in a midnight blue yukata of a slightly different cut. He leaned his shoulder against the screen and stared at Mukuro with narrow eyes. He didn't say anything.

Mukuro spread his arms out. "Well? There you go, Mr. Head Prefect," he offered and smiled like an angel, "now then… I believe you mentioned there was something in it for me?"

Hibari held his gaze and they regarded each other in silence. Finally he said, "His name is Ghost."

Hibari did not much enjoy sharing information, and he knew to a certain degree how Mukuro's twisted brain functioned. Information was not so much power to that guy as it was a weapon, and it was a dangerous thing to hand over weapons to someone who could strangle you with flowers (a running favorite of his).  
"Possibly he is some lost brother. His existence is kept secret from the rest of the world and information is scarce… to the rest of the world."

Mukuro's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He knew Hibari would not simply straight out tell him the things he wanted to know, not in a situation like this.  
"We believe, however," Hibari went on, glancing up at him – _here it comes_, thought Mukuro, "that he is… an Ace-card."

_An Ace-card_? "You mean the Millefiore might use him in a fight with unfavorable odds?" Mukuro cocked his head and gave a small derisive smile. "They would never get him out. The guardians of my, ah, current abode have no interest in politics."  
"Certainly they would not budge in the case of some bitch-fed violator of Discipline, such as yourself," said Hibari with distaste, and then he paused, as if searching for the right phrase, "but there is reason to believe that Ghost is not a prisoner."

He detached himself from the screen and let Mukuro think while he unpacked the few items he had brought with him to Italy.

"Why do you know about this person?" asked Mukuro after a moment's silence. "Did Bucking Bronco –"  
"No."  
"Hmm, never the matter… The Millefiore must have a contract with the Vendicare… how unusual. They must be more powerful than I suspected. If what you're saying is true…"

_I could arrange my own escape. _

It had taken him less than a minute to work out how the things Hibari had just told him about could work to his advantage and the realization of opportunity bloomed inside him like fireworks. He would have to do some research, work out a few kinks… but it could be done. He could do it. Everything he would need to know would become available to him once he was inside the Millefiore's main base, and no doubt it would be conveniently located in the exact same place as everything Hibari wanted to know. If this Byakuran truly had some Secret Weapon hidden away in the Vendicare, where _he_ was…

_I could be free!_

"Ironic, is it not," drawled Hibari as he sauntered toward the sliding doors which lead to the room where he normally slept, "that your one selfless act in that pitiful life of yours should end you chained up in confinement for a decade?"

Behind him Mukuro's jaw tensed and his red eye glinted dangerously.  
"Ironic, is it not," he retorted softly without looking up and, quick as a rattlesnake, grabbed Kyouya's wrist before he could pass him by completely, "that you with your petty pride-issues should come to me, the only one who has ever had you on your knees, seeking help?"  
And in one swift, hard movement he yanked Hibari back. It would probably not have worked if the other had not been so deprived of sleep, but as it were, Kyouya tumbled backwards and practically crashed into his lap. Mukuro smirked down at him. "Perhaps I shall have you beg me?"

And that was all it took – that one, curt reminder of their initial encounter was all the invitation Hibari needed. There was a flash of polished steel and Hibari's tonfa appeared as if conjured out of nothingness and then things began to happen very quickly. Mukuro jerked sideways and dodged his first blow, but Hibari managed somehow to twist his body around in spite of his awkward position and his second strike hit Mukuro in the solar plexus like a demolition ball. It also left Hibari's defenses open for just that split second Mukuro needed to grab onto his shoulders.

They lost their balance and fell roughly to the floor, wrestling, attacking, and pretending, for brief, fleeting moments, to surrender in order to lure the other into dropping his guard. Hibari's tonfas soon rolled soundlessly across the tatami floor and were quickly forgotten in the heated battle to push the other onto his back. Neither could quite suppress their fierce grins and suddenly they were teenagers again and nothing else existed in this world but them. Their fingers tried to close on each other's throats, knuckles aimed for patches of exposed, unprotected skin, knees seeking places to shove and push and restrain, until Mukuro was straddling Hibari's waist, smirking down at him, his eyes full of smugness and sparkling with triumph.

There was a moment of perfect stillness, when neither of them moved and only the sound of their slightly coarse breathing could be heard. And then their lips crashed together, hard and hot.

Mukuro felt the electric thrill of contact, the tip of his tongue touching Kyouya's, and a wonderful, vicious heat exploded inside of him. He thrust Hibari's arms back against the floor. His own slender fingers were like vises around the pale wrists, pinning them down.

This was a game they had played many times; a ritual of sorts that never quite molded into one due to both parties' loathe of predictability and routines that weren't felt down on paper. But they would go through with it now, all the way. They were both quick and definite in their decisions, always, and resentful towards the implied weakness of hesitation.

Leaning down he ran his tongue along the arc of Kyouya's collar bone, leaving a trail of warm wetness that in the next instant turned cold. He pressed his heated forehead against the exposed chest under him, rubbing his lips against the café-au-lait colored nipples, hard as candy pieces, licking the tender stretch of skin under the ribcage, lavishing it with soft, slow, open mouthed kisses and enjoyed how Hibari's breath caught and his body arched with pleasure. His skin smelled like snow and tasted faintly of seawater. One could get addicted to a taste like that.  
He grinned and brought his fingers down to grip the tantalizing curve of Kyouya's hip. Yes, it had definitely been too long.

Hibari tugged at his front, pulled up Mukuro's shirt, yanked at the stiff fabric of his jacket and, almost without breaking the contact between mouth and skin, they managed to wrestle it off together and it fell to the floor. And then Hibari's cool hands were on his chest, stroking his stomach and the hollow of his ribcage, sliding around to the small of his back before continuing their journey down, lower, until nimble fingers were making quick work of Mukuro's thin belts. He couldn't hold back a gasp as Kyouya's hands slipped inside.  
He was crazily aroused now and allowed himself to indulge for a moment in the skillful ministrations of the other, letting his head fall back with a low, deep moan as those hands worked him expertly, stroking, squeezing, prodding and touching, building up an exquisite rhythm, harder and faster, until his entire body was all but trembling with want. All the while Hibari regarded him, as if trying to study something particular in his face, his eyes dark and glittering under the long lashes, a wry twist to the corner of his lips. He was wearing one of those expressions that only Mukuro knew how to interpret.

He slid his palms down along Hibari's creamy thighs, stroking the delectable, naked skin that was so easily accessible in that simple garment he wore, hooked them under his knees, lifting them up, parting them. Under him Hibari was pressing his body up against his, wrapping his legs around Mukuro's narrow waist. He was naked under the yukata.  
His voice was low and slightly hoarse, "you are so damn weak, Roku – _ah!_"  
Mukuro drove his hips down hard, impaling himself, clutching Kyouya's hands with his own in a painfully tight grip, bracing himself, their fingers entwining of their own accord.  
"Ahhh –" Mukuro's teeth closed on Hibari's shoulder, a small exquisite pain. "You're so _tight_. It almost hurts!"  
He began to move, carefully at first, almost gently – then more vigorously, driving them into a sort of rhythm that created a friction between Hibari's back and the floor which might have been painful if it had not been for the dark blue silky fabric of the yukata underneath him. Then again Hibari had never let the prospect of a little physical discomfort keep him from doing exactly as he pleased.

He was holding Hibari down, gripping his hair, grinding those delicate bones hard, _too_ hard – but this was Kyouya, and he took every bit of it. Kyouya liked it rough. It could never be hard enough. He was like this beautiful toy that was impossible to break and Mukuro loved this about him. It became more and more difficult, impossible, to constrain his movements – the soft inside of Hibari's thighs brushed against his hips with each thrust, back and forth, and it was so incredibly, unbelievably, _wonderfully_ tight, and he thought that this was all he wanted to do ever for all eternity because it felt so _insanely good_!  
He forced himself in deeper, harder, used the palm of his hand on the back of Hibari's knee and pressed it forward and further down, slightly shifting angle to get better access.

He pressed his lips against the graceful curve of Kyouya's neck, licked the soft spot under his jaw where his pulse beat like a drum, nibbling gently at the soft, velvety skin of an ear lobe and was rewarded with a little sighs and faint whimpers of pleasure that reluctantly escaped from those pale, full lips.

Hibari threw his head to the side sank his teeth into the sharp, jutting curve of Mukuro's thumb, until the corner of his mouth was stained dark red with blood. But now Mukuro was pounding into him so hard he didn't notice the pain.  
Hibari's body was thrashing wildly under his own, fingers tangling in his hair, grasping at his upper arms, dragging his sharp little nails over the small of his back and nothing about him was passive, or soft or yielding. There was this about Hibari that he could never hold still when he wasn't sleeping, reading or deep in thought. And most certianly not while having sex. Hibari called it being passive-aggressive, and Mukuro thought it was such a wonderfully interesting misinterpretation of the term that he could never bear to correct him.  
And he wouldn't want those hips to stop shifting, never, not when it made his every thrust feel different, deeper, _better_ than the last, driving his desire to a wild, uncontrollable haze.

He felt Kyouya's breath, hard and warm against the underside of his jaw, brushing the nape of his neck, it came in sharp, high gasps now. He threw his head back as his entire body convulsed and he shuddered and hugged his arms tight, tighter, around Kyouya, burying his face in his thick hair. He exploded inside him and it felt like the blood rushed from his head all at once and the room spun and he was seeing stars.

Hibari exploited this moment of vulnerability to grab Mukuro's smooth hips. He braced himself against the floor with the heel of his foot and gave a hard shove that made them tumble around on the floor, leaving Hibari once more on top, his thighs pressed hard against Mukuro's sides, arms wrapped around his chest. Their bodies were slick against each other and smelled of sex and heated skin and clean sweat. The sudden, rough motion made Mukuro groan painfully through gritted teeth. His flesh felt sore and tender like a fresh bruise, the muscles of his thigh jerking weakly with the aftershock of his climax.  
And then Hibari's slender body suddenly tensed on top of him, his sharp teeth closing on the soft underside of Mukuro's neck and with a violent tremor he came, too.

As he laid there panting on the floor with Hibari on top of him in a tangle of limbs and the few rumpled up garments they had not bothered to get rid of, Mukuro felt suddenly, inexplicably, insanely _alive_. Even if it was just for now, in this fleeting little moment while he was still in his own physical body, he was alive. The sensation was dizzying – he felt suddenly desperate, eager to touch and taste and experience every tiny, miniscule thing. Swept up, carried away, he had no idea why he did what he did next – but he did it anyway. With one hand he grabbed Hibari's head by the hair, tipped his mouth up to his and kissed him, hard.

Hibari responds passionately for three full seconds. Then he bites.

.

.

.

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**Author's note**: alright, that was part 1! Hope you like it ^_^  
My current plan is to make a part 2 and an epilogue. I should probably hurry though, before everything is revealed and all of my ideas are proven wrong.

About my theories – if no one knew about Ghost from before, he's probably not been imprisoned for any crime, but judging from everyone's reaction he obviously should be locked up anyway. Also it was the Foundation who got information from Mukuro, not the Vongola HQ, and there are plenty of clues that hint to a connection between him and Hibari, especially since Dino seemed to know when the adult Mukuro was going to appear.

I got the term 'constructive destruction' from a fic called _Darling we'll go adrowning_ by Kaesteranya, by the way. I just loved it so much, I had to use it! The fic is in my favorites, you should definitely read it (it's so good I couldn't read or write a word for days after I'd read it)!

Reviews are humbly accepted with EXTREME gratitude and will be given a warm and loving home (honest – I never even delete them from my inbox).


	2. Interlude

**Interlude**

~ after the Battle ~

.

_It's October when they meet again, almost Halloween. And, like some restless spirit, Rokudo Mukuro appears. Suddenly he is there and, miraculously, impossibly, it is really him, standing there perfectly balanced on the narrow wire fence on top of the school roof with the wind in his hair. Hibari just stares at him as he leaps gracefully down from the fence onto the roof – for a brief second his dark eyes are wide in disbelief, before they narrow into a fierce scowl._

"_Rokudo… Mukuro…"_

_The ring that dangles from the chain around his neck resembles his own. Only the emblem is different._ _Cloud and Mist._

"_My, isn't this nice?" Mukuro gazed up at him from under the silky curtain of his blue-black hair. "I suspected that we might meet again, Mr. Skylark. I knew we would, though I must say I was surprised to see you there at the Rain battle." He grinned. "Kufufu... Didn't take you for a team player."  
A half-smile. "Team?" Hibari's voice was drawling, as if he found the concept quite ridiculous. "What kind of crowding is that? Stop saying useless things."_

_The stretch of empty space between them, Hibari's territory, his sanctuary, was silent. They stared at each other, their senses practically crackling, reeling to go._

_"I'll bite you to death!"  
__Hibari attacked in a flurry, perhaps hoping to take the other's defenses by surprise while he was still holding back, still smiling that infuriating, hellish smile of his.  
As if he knows something no one else knows. _

_But it was no good; Mukuro matched his speed, flowing backwards, full of grace to match the other boy's advance.  
"It seems you've gotten stronger." Steel against steel clanking together, Hibari's strikes and perfectly aimed blows hit only the thin shaft of Mukuro's trident and were knocked aside. "Not that it matters, the result will be the same no matter what moves you try on me."  
"You talk too much, herbivore."_

_Hibari sprung back before Mukuro could mount a counter defense. But none came. They circled each other, measuring each other, searching for openings, plotting their next moves.  
Again it was Hibari who went in, flashing one of his rare kicks at Mukuro's leg, jabbing fast and hard against his ribs and turning a sharp elbow against the chin. Each attack met only the impact of a blocking prong. Then, at last, Mukuro countered, ramming his trident into the side of Hibari's momentarily unprotected head with full force. Hibari staggered backwards, clearly caught off guard. He nearly tripped over his own heels, but regained his balance just in time.  
Straightening his back he dragged his arm over his face, wiping the blood away with his shirt sleeve. The look in his dark eyes was positively murderous now._

_Mukuro was hanging back, not pressing the advantage, letting the other recover. "I know you have been trying to find out about me. I was flattered, truly, when I heard." He was still smiling, enjoying himself, savoring their little game. "But you can save your efforts, skylark," a hint of hesitation, "I'm… not exactly in school anymore."_

_Hibari stanced, ready for the next assault, tonfas poised and ready and they closed on each other again. "You are here now."_

_Hibari feinted at his face, ducked the swiping counterstrike and struck the side of Mukuro's knee, where it would hurt the most. The connection was solid and Mukuro rewarded him with a sharp grunt that was part pain, part surprise. He fell, but as he did he managed to snatch Hibari around the back of the neck, bearing him down, flinging him to the ground, hard, and landing on top of him._

_Mukuro was slender and almost lanky and he didn't weigh much, but the impact still drove the breath from Hibari's lungs. Their weapons clattered across the rough surface of the roof. Hibari was gasping for air, attempting to fill up his lungs again, his sharp little nails digging into Mukuro's sharp, knobby wrists as they struggled against each other. Several moments of scrambling and then Mukuro was over him, fist cocked, aimed at his face._

_Their eyes meet; Hibari's, burning with ice-cold, predatory intensity, and Mukuro's, wild and alive._

_His teeth clenched, Mukuro was ready to take him out, but he didn't. There was suddenly something different in the lines of his mouth, his eyes lowering, trailing the delicate lines of Hibari's face. He moisted his lips. And the tiny hesitation was all Hibari needed to bring his knee up between Mukuro's knees with all the force he could muster._

_He didn't expect Mukuro to get up again, but he did, though his expression looked pained. "You little **fuck**…!" Of all the Vongola Guardians, Chrome included, Hibari is the first to hear the always eloquent Mukuro swear._

_He composes himself, pulls his fingers gracefully through his disheveled hair. The smirk returns. "Kufufu... I'll have to bring you flowers next time."_

_Hibari twirls the tonfa in his hands, expectantly. Of all the Vongola Guardians, Mukuro is the first to see Hibari's genuine smile._

_In the next instant they are at each other again._

.

.

.

.

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**Author's note**: I tried to fit this little piece into every possible end of Part II, but it just made the whole chapter seem confusing, so I decided to make it into a middle-chapter instead! My English teacher always warned us about mixing past and present tense, but I did it on purpose here. Anyway, in case it wasn't clear, this was how I pictured the first meeting between Mukuro and Hibari after the ring battles with the Varia.  
Sort of like their 2nd First 'Date'!

I think Reborn worked pretty hard to keep Hibari and Mukuro from discovering each other during the Varia Arc. My theory is that Dino managed to keep Hibari busy until the Storm battle, and then Mukuro saw Hibari (who noticed the mist) during the Rain battle. After all, he did go to see him first thing the next day!

Hope you like it, Part II is right around the corner ^_^


	3. Part II

**Part II**

~ the indisputable value of memories ~

.

"Go away, I want to sleep."  
"Oh, please do," said Mukuro cheerfully, as if he were some honorable guest, generously excusing his host.  
Hibari scowled sideways down at him. "Get your worthless, rotten self lost, herbivore, before I bite you to death. We are_ not_ lovers."

"_Kufufu – _All the better, bird-boy," Mukuro leant back with a self-confident smile and began to roll a silver ring absentmindedly back and forth on his knuckles. "People who love one can be so tedious. The people who hate one, on the other hand," he tossed the ring up in the air and caught it with a sweeping motion in the palm of his hand, "are so much more interesting!"

Hibari gave a small snort of irritation, but didn't press the matter. Instead he pulled the blankets tighter over himself and rolled over to his side so that he had his back to Mukuro, who sat cross-legged and almost completely naked on the tatami floor next to the bed, skinny and beautiful like some Botticelli Buddha, the exquisite flats and sharp curves of his pale skin softly outlined in silver hues and blue shadows by the faint moonlight.

With a glint of playful malice in his red eye he conjured up a dark green wine bottle seemingly out of thin air. "So… are you still not drinking?"  
"Go burn, hellspawn," Hibari (still with his back to Mukuro) growled through clenched teeth, his voice slightly muffled.  
"_Kufufu…_!"

.

Hibari, while being for all practical purposes immune to physical pain, did _not_ handle alcohol very well.

The first time this unusual weakness was discovered Hibari was 17 and it was all Mukuro's fault.  
He did it on purpose, too, even though he kept insisting he hadn't done anything at all (…but, really, they all knew it was him). It was he who did the equation, because he had not failed to notice how Hibari seemed to have a tremendous reaction to anything and everything that somehow affected his balance.  
And so he had spiked the green ice tea that Hibari was so fond of with as much vodka as he thought he could get away with and then he had waited patiently.

He was not disappointed.

Hibari did not see him (because Mukuro did not want to be seen). He didn't see what Mukuro did to his drink either.  
And, as it turned out, to the great delight of Mukuro (and absolutely nobody else), alcohol reigned in a league entirely of its own. Hibari had nearly thrashed the entire bar on his own in less than 10 minutes. And he'd only drunken half the glass…! Finally he had collapsed into the nervous arms of a clearly bewildered and nervous Dino Cavallone and then asked him in a slurry voice if he'd go to bed with him before he burst out laughing and fell promptly asleep.  
While Hibari-the-Drunkard was being carried out by a very red-faced Dino, who promised to get him safely home (and definitely, definitely not exploit the situation in any inappropriate way whatsoever _thankyouverymuch_), Mukuro had picked up the half-empty glass with nimble fingers and stared at it in fascination.  
What an absolutely wonderful result! He wondered what it would take to make Hibari drink Tequila…

What Mukuro did not know was for just how long the effect had lasted. Hibari had a perfect mess the entire next day, which he spent curled up on the bathroom floor, shaking with fever and cold sweat while the remains of the toxins coursed through his system.  
And Dino Cavallone had to spend the next couple of weeks trying to convince everyone that he wasn't screwing Hibari Kyouya (Mukuro wondered if he ever had, though, but the Cavallone seemed to take great pleasure in _not_ giving him a straight answer on that particular matter and asking Kyouya about it would feel like making a _confession, _or something equally below his dignity… so he couldn't be sure).

This was later referred to as the 'bar incident' by the Vongola, and had prompted a number of rather silly precautions be put in effect in order to keep Mukuro away from Hibari and Hibari away from alcohol. None of which worked particularly well, of course.

Mukuro had attempted to get him drunk on numerous occasions after that but Hibari, who could be quite clever, had quickly become an expert at evading him.

Mukuro, on the other hand, never missed an opportunity to drink whenever he could find an excuse to remain in his own form for any longer stretch of time that didn't strictly involve fighting. It was a small pleasure that he could never help but indulge.  
It was also, however, a constant source of great irritation to Gokudera Hayato (who was never just a _little _annoyed whenever something rubbed him the wrong way) during the few meetings where all of the Vongola were gathered at the same time, when Mukuro would put away one glass of ruby red after another while enjoying the whispered quarrels between the hot-headed half-blood and his sword-wielding companion:  
" – shouldn't fucking get _drunk _when things are this _serious_! He should listen to the _10__th_, damnit, can't he see he's worried?!"  
"Ahaha, there now, calm down –"  
"_No_, _you_ calm down!"  
"He looks fine to me. Let him have this, huh?"  
"Don't take his side! …tch! Stupid jock…"

It probably didn't help that Rokudo Mukuro could drink a sailor under the table.

These meetings had occurred more and more frequently after the Millefiore had appeared on the scene, seemingly intent on wiping them all out...

.

Mukuro felt a sense of deep melancholy creep over him where he sat, absentmindedly sipping on the expensive alcohol he had brought along for himself. In spite of the content feeling their previous activities had left him with, he felt strangely empty.

He, unlike the others (with the possible exception of Hibari), did not fear death. He was not like them.  
But he did feel a strong, unbearable sadness when he thought of the past – a past they were planning on rewriting. He wondered if his own young self would be terribly confused once this desperate plan was put in motion, for surely he must be. He would probably be seething with irritation, wondering why his Chrome suddenly wasn't there anymore and whether he'd ever get to see Ken and Chikusa again.

Or Hibari, whom he had been agonizingly in love with… _I'd be furious_, thought Mukuro.  
They wouldn't even have kissed yet, he realized. 10 years ago… Would they have even _met_ each other for a second time? So many years, so many memories; all the things that had made him into _him_… What manner of person would his younger self become when he didn't know what he, what _this_ Mukuro knew?

And what of his powers? The others, the other guardians, his Chrome included, would be training to become stronger – and with those rings, surely they would – but what about him? He had been equally matched against Hibari Kyouya once (in strength, anyway – when it came to cunning and deceit he had always been light-years ahead of the little blood-sucker), and _almost_ equally matched against Sawada Tsunayoshi (not that he was bitter)… Would the younger him be?

"Will we come back again, you think?" he asked suddenly.  
He was terribly bothered by his own dark thoughts, and he had spoken almost without realizing it.  
Hibari lay still on his back with only his head turned toward Mukuro, watching him through half-lidded eyes. His expression was serious. "I don't know."  
"It fascinates me, this thing we are about to do," admitted Mukuro. "I wish I could have observed it all…" He cast Kyouya a sideways glance. "Are you scared?"  
"No." Hibari smiled lazily. "I'm not a cowardly bottom-feeder like you, after all, Rokudo Mukuro. I am strong so I have no reason to fear death."

"It is not the thought of dying that troubles me," said Mukuro quietly. "It's the thought of becoming nothing."  
He took another sip of wine before he continued. "This…" he touched a hand to his own chest before looking over at Hibari, "and you…" He hesitated, an uncharacteristic thing for him, and his eyes said suddenly many things. "It will be as if we never existed, won't it? It will be as we're erasing our own selves and creating new versions."  
He felt vulnerable and strangely exposed even as the words rolled off his tongue. He was being painfully honest now; he, who normally hid his true meanings and intentions within layer upon layer of encrypted words and misleading phrases. "All of this will have been for nothing."

The atmosphere had changed completely now. They so rarely were truly honest with each other, and the sudden seriousness of the situation weighed on them both like lead. It could have very easily developed into one of those tender, almost sentimental moments.  
It didn't, of course.

"No, it won't. Now, shut up," said Hibari without sympathy and yawned. "You make a poor pessimist, Rokudo Mukuro, and if you don't stop this heartbreaking rant of yours I will bite you to death." While Hibari understood Mukuro better than perhaps anyone and knew he had his reasons for being melodramatic, he also knew that Mukuro was drawn towards Destruction like a moth to the flame. Come the End of the World – however nightmarish and excruciating and maddeningly bitter-sweet it may be – Mukuro, he knew, would welcome it with open arms, laughing and dancing all the way down to Hell. He was that kind of person. It was one of the things that made him interesting, and one of the (many) things that Hibari loved to hate about him.

"_Kufufu_…" Perfectly uninvited Mukuro climbed up into the bed, lay down beside him and snaked a hand around his waist. "You have no compassion."  
"You have no moral," Hibari retorted. He tried to push it away, but only caused Mukuro to pull him closer. Hibari rolled his eyes – why could he never win with this guy?  
"Moral is an illusion." Mukuro nuzzled the nape of his neck softly with his nose, tickling the silky strands of downy hair there. "A man-made illusion created to give weak and boring people and excuse not to indulge their hearts' true desires." He pressed his lips softly against Hibari's pretty neck, just below the ear, and rubbed the side of his face almost affectionately against the thick mop of hair. Their legs tangled together quite automatically under the blankets.

Hibari yawned and decided he didn't care. Mukuro could stay if he wanted. It was of no real matter, considering he would be forced by the boundaries of his own abilities to disappear soon enough anyway, and Mukuro would be gone before then (Chrome was the one thing in his life that was absolutely Sacred).  
Their time together was and had always been limited, they both knew that.  
"Compassion is what separates the hunter from its prey," he muttered in a drowsy voice. "It can be a fatal weakness to have…"

When he fell asleep at last, Hibari had Mukuro's skinny arms wrapped around him, protectively, possessively. His kisses smelled of something dark and rich and the tongue that traced the contours of his spine and the sharp shoulder blades was colored red like blood. Later he would kick Mukuro out of the bed on pure reflex while still deep in slumber. Hibari had some space issues. He was much more exhausted than he had known and slept deeply, so he never heard Mukuro's quiet whispering – so faint the words barely brushed his hair.

"It was always you, you know…"

.

The morning after, Hibari did something out of the ordinary. If there had been anyone there to observe him, they might have thought his actions a bit peculiar – but there were, of course, no observers.

He would never admit that Sawada Tsunayoshi or Mukuro's words had had any effect on him, or that he had entertained similar thoughts himself (Hibari was nothing if not practical).

He didn't quite share Mukuro's concern, however.  
No, in fact Hibari felt confident that the bonds between Mukuro and himself would remain quite the same, regardless of old memories and new experiences. He suspected that even after he was dead and buried, whenever that happened, he would probably open his dusty, sunken eyes to find some ectoplasm after-image of Mukuro floating beside him inside the coffin and greet him with that damnable smirk and some lame joke like _'oh my, fancy seeing you here'_.  
The thought did nothing to brighten his mood.

But that morning, once he had made certain that he was alone, he fished a small picture out from the pocket of his suit and hid it discreetly in a different pocket in a shirt that he folded neatly together and put back in his perfectly organized closet.

Some things, after all, cannot be erased.

* * *

"I didn't know about these, Mukuro-chan."

Mukuro was not entirely certain of whether Byakuran's almost child-like voice was part of his own hallucinations or if it was really there. Was he even awake? Glancing around he realized that Byakuran must have lifted him from the floor and carried him over where the couch was because that was where he lay sprawled now. The white cushions were streaked with blood. The physical pain had been pushed back in the priority queue of his consciousness to be replaced by the slow, dull, excruciating ache of exhaustion. He wondered vaguely what it was that kept him breathing still.

He blinked heavily and thought he saw Byakuran twirling two ornate rings between his long, tapered fingers. Both rings were big and extravagant. _My Cursed Mist rings…  
_"Did you know that there are only 6 left of these in the entire world?" He gave Mukuro an eloquent look. "So far I only knew about the location of two of them." He held one of them up and seemed to marvel at its strange, vicious beauty. "Such power…!"

_My, my, he is truly fascinated by these trinkets_, Mukuro realized. He thought of the Mare rings, the Arcobaleno pacifiers, the Vongola rings that Tsuna had made them destroy and wondered if Byakuran had his sights set on collecting all of the cursed mist rings as well. How ambitious this man was!  
Mukuro had a fleeting image that was at once crazy and wistful of how wonderful it would have been to have met Byakuran under different circumstances. _We could have been friends_, he thought _…very briefly. And then I could have possessed your mind and body and taken over the world, easy as nothing. Oh well._

.

The other man's palm is warm against his skin when he places it on Mukuro's smooth cheek. "You might still be of some use to me after all, even if you don't have that Vongola ring."  
Mukuro has no voice left to answer him with, and Byakuran's vile smirk widens. He is barely conscious at this point, hopelessly lost somewhere between reality and a half dream-like state. Again it is Kyouya he thinks of.

"You look like you want to ask me how come I haven't killed you yet."

"_You look like you want to ask me how come I knew about your weakness when you yourself did not."  
__Pale pink petals fall like snow around them. There is a saying in Japan that the Sakura is so beautiful it can drive a man crazy._

Byakuran grabs him by the hair, pulls his head back and sideways to expose the neck, fingers trail his jaw. "Isn't that right, Mukuro-chan?"

_His smile is cruel and mockingly sweet, his fingers tangled in the other's wild, pitch black hair, forcing the head up, his knuckles smeared with blood. And Kyouya is 15, so young and so heartbreakingly exquisite, his eyes hateful and burning with murderous intent, his lovely white skin marred by streaks of crimson and Mukuro thinks that yes, blood does indeed become the pale.  
__This one has not uttered a sound. He has not moaned or whimpered, begged, cursed, screamed or shed so much as a single tear. How fascinating he is, this one._

"It seems there is more to you than that pretty-boy face of yours. I might make some use of you yet."

_Mukuro has already decided not to kill him._

"It's true that I could simply take these rings from you now and dispose of you as I originally intended. But you see, Mukuro-chan…" The fingers slips further down, closes around his neck – loosely, because this is a demonstration of power and nothing else. He leans his face closer, closer, until his snow colored hair tickles in Mukuro's face and his lips brush against his ear, and he whispers in a barely audible voice, "I have a secret way that is so much better."

_Oh Kyouya, how you should have loved to see me now…!_

* * *

Tsuna just wanted to protect them – he had wanted to protect them all!

Irie Shouichi had explained to him with downcast eyes what Byakuran was capable of, of the impossible things that he knew. It sounded pretty far off – different worlds, all coexisting at the same time, side by side, all destroyed beyond recognition by one man. _But_, _then_ _again_, Tsuna thought, _I can fly by means of a pair of mittens and a bullet between my eyes. Who am I to judge what's far off?_

That was the reason why he had needed for Hibari to know all the details; one of the reasons, anyway. Of all his Guardians, Hibari was the one who could not be kept in the shadows. As complex a character as that man was, his solution to most troubles was, as it had always been, to bite them to death.  
Once it became clear that not only the Vongola with their families and their allies were being targeted, but Namimori as well, it also became clear to Tsuna that he would have to take some sort of measures to ensure that Hibari Kyouya wouldn't go and get himself killed or kidnapped or worse.  
The other reason was that Hibari had the means to act independently from the Vongola family itself – a point he made certain to stress on any and every given occasion, much to Gokudera's irritation.

Their plan was extremely complex (more and more so) and required that a lot of things went very smoothly. He _needed_ Hibari on this. And Hibari was right, of course, in assuming that Mukuro was their best card when it came to spying on Byakuran, on finding out the things about him that Irie Shouichi could not (also Hibari, who, it turned out, had met Byakuran face to face, had assured him with a shudder of contempt and eyes like freezing hell that if they didn't murder each other first Byakuran and Mukuro would probably become best buddies. According to him they were the same breed of herbivore).

Tsuna had a certain control over Rokudo Mukuro (he had _some_ control, kind of) through Chrome – otherwise he suspected that Mukuro, too, would no doubt be half-way through executing one of his intricate, extravagant schemes, aiming to ultimately possess Byakuran and take over the world himself. Yes, he probably would.

Those two gave him headaches…

Even now, when they were all adults, Mukuro and Hibari still had a way of making him feel uneasy. They seemed, somehow, to belong to an entirely different league from the rest of them, as if they belonged to the same kind of dangerous species, and still they both had an air about them that made Tsuna feel like a small child intruding while the grown-ups were talking.

When he was still alive Reborn had told him that the tension between those two was only to be expected. _Cloud and Mist are brothers by nature_, he'd explained, _just like Gokudera and Lambo_. But while Gokudera and Lambo's frequent bantering had resulted in nothing worse so far than a couple of singed eyebrows and proof that Gokudera might one day make a half-way decent father (should he ever choose to become one), Mukuro and Hibari's ended always, it seemed, in blood and destruction, near-death experiences and lots and lots of damage repairs. They just wouldn't _listen_!

The thing was that if Byakuran got a hold of them, _either_ of them, they were screwed…

But he couldn't spend his energy brooding over that, not now. Their plan was coming together, piece by piece, and it was as intricate as anything that even Rokudo Mukuro could have concocted.

Mukuro would die first, and with him, Chrome would vanish, too. Hibari would disappear, Irie Shouichi would work against them intensely, Ryôhei would go to Italy… and he, Sawada Tsunayoshi, the 10th generation Vongola boss would die last.

Their entire family would appear to be dissolving, the mighty Vongola beaten at last…

And then they would really disappear, one by one. And, with a little help, they would reappear at the right time in the right places. And with them they would have the Vongola rings. The rings that would help them open up those boxes. Hibari and Ryôhei would come back to Namimori and the Millefiore would get a new employee. Yes, so far, so good. But that was only a fraction of it all and there were just so many things that could go wrong!  
He worried greatly about Chrome. Not Mukuro, so much. Mukuro's enthusiasm when it came to conspiracies was right up there with Haru and Kyoko-chan's when it came to cakes and he expected his enigmatic Mist Guardian would probably be having a blast spying on Byakuran.

No, he couldn't worry, couldn't be having these thoughts, not now! It would work. It _had _to work!

He suddenly missed Reborn tremendously…

* * *

In spite of himself, Mukuro had to admit that he was a little impressed. He had met his match. And what fearsome match it was…

'_I can erase souls…'_

As much as the thought of what was about to be done unto him terrified him, he also was quite in awe of what his opponent was capable of. For now he knew exactly what it was that made Byakuran so terribly dangerous. But, then again, that was what he had come for, was it not?  
_Wonderful_, he thought, _now I know. I actually found out everything I came for!_ The thought gave him some satisfaction. His_ mission_ at least could be said to have been a success, even though he'd probably never be able to tell it to anyone.

How sad that it was this man who would be the one to finally kill him (except he wouldn't really die, per se), and not Kyouya.  
Hibari had promised him more than once that, in the end _he_ and none other would be the one to bite Mukuro to death. And Mukuro, who felt that he had truly meant it and who felt touched at this twisted declaration of devotion, had quite looked forward to it. What a sweet battle it would have been!

_Arrividerci, Kyouya. I really do love you, you know. Guess we'll be tearing each other to bits in a different life._

And his vision went bright, blindingly white. And then he died.

.

Except...

.

…Except he didn't!

_1 heartbeat, 2 heartbeats…_  
He waited.  
_...3 heartbeats!_  
Then, carefully, with the tentative notions of one who has been expecting a blow that doesn't come, Mukuro began to search with his mind. With a growing sense of astonishment he realized that there were suddenly a number of things that he had been that he no longer were. First of all, and perhaps most notably, the pain was gone – the pain, and the terrifying feeling of being trapped that had been inside that room. Secondly he was, in fact, quite aware and quite himself and he didn't feel very much erased at all.

And also, thirdly, he was not alone…

* * *

While Mukuro was enjoying what he thought were his last minutes in life contemplating his perverted love for Hibari, and admitting his grudging admiration for Byakuran and his abilities, it would perhaps have humored him to know that in a very different part of the world the object of his affection was having almost the exact same thoughts.  
And if Mukuro had been able to watch Hibari Kyouya's last minutes as an adult in this world, he would have been proud.

The difference was that Hibari's feeling of growing respect for his current opponent was quite untainted by hatred and served to fuel his excitement rather than his fury. He could, in fact, vividly recall the last time he had wanted to kill someone this badly and, incidentally, that battle, too, had been against a Mist Illusionist. They truly were a gut-wrenchingly irritating breed of herbivore, he thought, and felt a sting of disappointment when he realized he would probably not be able to finish this.

Genkishi thought perhaps that he had already won when Hibari suddenly resigned to blocking and parrying and making no attempt to fight back even though his deadly tonfa – his only weapon now that they were trapped inside what seemed to be an illusionary dimension created inside the Cloud hedgehog, which was his only _other_ weapon – were being sliced apart bit by bit.  
"Do you _want_ to die?"  
But then again, this sudden defensiveness might have served only to strengthen Genkishi's growing feeling of uneasiness. The comments, drawled in a lazily amused voice certainly did and Genkishi wondered, perhaps, if the Vongola didn't still have an Ace up their sleeve somewhere. But Hibari was quite unreadable.  
"Why would I? The one who will be bitten to death is you."

If Genkishi had ever met Rokudo Mukuro, he might have recognized the malicious little smile and that final intrusion of personal space, when Hibari's lovely, blood-spattered face was suddenly mere inches from his own – both of which were tricks that Mukuro used quite often, in fact, to creep out his enemies (or _toys_, as he affectionately liked to think of them). And in a low, husky voice practically purred, "…I'm so jealous!"

Yes, Hibari's final action was a small ode to the first opponent whom he had found truly worthy to be his Nemesis in this world – it was his own twisted perception of a heartfelt goodbye.  
…_I'll chase you to Hell if I have to, you filthy, good-for-nothing brain-leech_, he thought (with a very small but quite sincere smile) as he closed his eyes, and then the world around him seemed to explode.

Less than 10 minutes later Genkishi found himself being insulted by a thin, insolent boy in a school uniform perched on a pile of rubble.

* * *

"Ah, Fran, what a… pleasant surprise. Your timing is impeccable. You received my instructions, then, I presume."

Mukuro was far more pleased, relieved, surprised and a whole lot of other positive and appreciative things than he would ever let on in front of the other. It had worked… It had actually worked! Their plan – they would succeed now, surely they would! And hope flared up in his chest like some warm, living thing.

"Uh-huh," Fran's thoughts were a drawled mumbling, almost as if he were bored. "That thing with the Millefiore dragged out," he explained.  
"And my Chrome?"  
" – is where he promised she'd be. "  
Mukuro pressed on. "Is she well?"  
"Miss Chrome is fine. The Duck made her use her ring when you were cut off."  
The trend Ken had started of referring to Hibari as 'Duck' had been picked up by all of Mukuro's immediate subordinates – all except Chrome, who still respectfully called him 'the Cloud Person'.

Relief, oh sweet relief… Everything (well, very nearly everything) was going according to plan. Certainly they had veered off and skidded down to some half-way solution between Plan C and D, it seemed, but his Chrome was alive and he had escaped, as he always did, with all the information he needed. Because he knew Byakuran's tricks now, knew how he could be defeated – how they could win!

_Soon I'll be free!_

.

.

.

**Epilogue**

~ aftermath/prelude ~

.

It was almost midnight. On the darkened playground above the secret Vongola hide-out, two little pinpricks of glowing orange could be seen. They made almost no movement, but occasionally the glow would intensify until it was almost yellow before it faded back into orange.

Dino Cavallone inhaled deeply and patted the cigarette to rid it of excessive ash. "Never thought I'd say this, but I am glad to see you." He glanced up at Mukuro, who sat perched up on top of the swings, idly dangling his legs like a kid on the pier.  
"_Kufufu…_" Mukuro chuckled and blew tiny, perfect smoke-circles. "Likewise, Cavallone, likewise…." The circles twirled together to form intricate floral formations in the air.

There was a moment of quietness.

"He didn't tell me he was going to switch himself, you know," said Mukuro suddenly.  
"We needed all the rings," said Dino and shrugged. He didn't need to ask whom Mukuro was referring to. "He didn't really have a choice. Thanks to Chrome we were able to keep you, at least."

Mukuro looked away. It had not occurred to him that Hibari would be gone when he returned. Of course they needed all the rings, and yes, his stay with Byakuran had been slightly prolonged, but somewhere in his mind Mukuro had still conjured up the belief that Kyouya would be there when he came back to them – _his_ Kyouya.  
Not this prideful young one who was all teeth and spikes out and degrading insults…

"Are they the same person, I wonder," he said quietly, almost to himself.

Now it was Dino's time to chuckle. "Oh yeah, he's Kyouya, all right…!" Absentmindedly he rubbed his arm, which, although one couldn't tell in the darkness, was a patchwork of Technicolor bruises. "He won't listen to a word I say and he won't admit defeat even if you take him down by force. I'd almost forgotten how wild he was when he was young."

_I remember_, thought Mukuro and again he looked away. _I remember everything._

"And just wait 'til you see what his Vongola box weapon is!" Dino laughed. "You should've seen the look on his face when he first unleashed it!"

.

What the two men on the dark playground did not know was that while they were having their private little conversation, the object of it was currently rifling through his older self's possessions in attempt to quench his thirst for information he would never (_ever_) admit that he actually wanted.

Hibari had always assumed that he would be tall when he grew up, and so it was not without a small amount of disappointment that he had found the clothes worn by his adult self and realized that he had not been – or would not be – a large man. He had shown absolutely no interest in the premises where his older self had resided when Dino and Kusakabe had attempted to show it to him. But after they had both gone away or gone to sleep, he had wandered through each and every room, peeked in every closet and walked every path in the elegant garden. He had wondered if it had all been designed by him and thought, with a perfectly unreasonable feeling of begrudge, that he rather liked it.

He had been far more curious than he had let on – and as soon as he felt he had sated his curiosity regarding himself, he moved on to the others.  
He found pictures in some of the drawers and attached to some of the files. None were of him. This pleased him, because Hibari had never been able to stand being photographed and he smiled in quiet acknowledgement.  
At least the older him had not been a complete herbivore.

Sawada Tsunayoshi, who looked the youngest of them now – younger than he really was, even – would grow up magnificently, he saw from a group photo. He wouldn't be as tall as Yamamoto Takeshi or Gokudera Hayato, though, for they were in the picture, too, flanking their boss on either side and both were tall as towers. And there was Sasagawa Ryôhei who, dressed up in a suit and with an almost serene expression on his masculine features, looked nothing like himself and next to him stood a boy in a cow-printed shirt that Hibari didn't know. There were pictures of his own crew there as well. Kusakabe and Morita and Nakamura… They looked pretty much the same way they always had, he thought, but suspected that while they may have retained their proportions they had probably increased massively in size. And there was his bird!  
As he lay flat on his stomach with the contents of the desk drawers spread out on the floor, it annoyed him that not all the photos seemed to have some important, official purpose of some sort. Those that weren't attached to pieces of paper, though they could be counted on one hand, looked suspiciously like something a weak, plant-eater might keep.

As he shuffled through them all, he couldn't help but notice that, in addition to himself, there was someone else whose face he could not find. And he realized with a feeling of growing irritation that he had been sub-consciously searching for it.

But when he did find it (for he really did find it) it disturbed him far worse than anything else he had found that day.

A tiny photograph fell out from the breast pocket of one of the shirts he tried on afterwards. And there he was. Rokudo Mukuro, smirking up at him, squinting against bright sunlight and Hibari felt it like a punch to the guts. There was nothing official about it at all and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know why he had found it in his clothes, rather than in some file. There was no one else in the picture, just the androgynous, angel-like visage of a much older Mukuro, with his red eye and blue-black hair in his pretty face, and there was nothing written on it.

His lip curled in contempt at this display of sentimentality, however discrete it might be, but his eyes lingered at the photo and he eventually put it his own breast pocket.

.

.

.

.

.

**Author's note**: …and that's as far as the manga has gotten (at this point)! I have no clue what will happen next, but I really hope they let the young Hibari meet the adult Mukuro at some point – is it too much to ask for a little fan-service?

About Mukuro's rings – he wore two during his fight against Byakuran (at least from what I could tell when I watched the anime) and they looked a lot like the cursed mist rings that were introduced a little later, so I guessed that Mukuro had somehow acquired two of the 6. But then I watched it again and now I think that maybe he only has one and that the other ring is something else – but I _do_ think that he has one!  
Also, I believe the adult versions will continue on with their lives as before once the Future Arc ends.

So, umh, hope you enjoyed this, I've had it in my mind since forever ^_^  
Reviews are (of course and as always) EXTREMELY greatly appreciated!


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